Orlesian Fries
by Fafsernir
Summary: None of them really knew what they were doing here, why they all were here, or even where the fuck was the Inquisitor. But they were hungry. [Day 7 of "7 days/7 fics"]


_A quick explanation of this:_ 8 days - 8 fics _is a challenge we created with a friend. Basically, for 8 days, I'll be writing a fic a day (based on 10 days / 10 songs by PV Nova, a french youtuber/musician) with conditions we came up with and that I pick randomly each day. Even if the fics are part of the same challenge, they can all be read apart, nothing connect them. Now, it's called 7 days 7 fics on FF because one of the days was about OCs, but I won't be posting that on FF._

 _Today's conditions were:_ Prompt _"Just admit I'm right."_ \- Fandom _Dragon Age_ \- Category _Humor_ _-_ Imposed word _French fries (_ suggested by Plume-now) **obviously,** as French fries don't exist in Dragon Age, we decided that if it was with Dragon Age, we'd call them _Orlesian fries_ just because, well, obvious reasons. So that's the actual imposed word.

 _I might have gotten inspired by the constant banter between people saying fries are French and those saying it's from Belgium... It was fun ;)_

 _And the Inquisitor is mentioned, but gender-neutral, so I used they/them pronouns._

* * *

Cassandra grunted, clearly annoyed – but then again, when was she not? Varric was writing in a notebook, inwardly smiling because he knew that Cassandra wanted to read what he was writing. Dorian was busy looking at stalls, being really judgemental about most of the clothes he saw. Solas just looked really bored. Big cities weren't his strong suit.

None of them really knew what they were doing here, why they all were here, or even where the fuck was the Inquisitor. They had told them to wait here, and although Val Royeaux was big, they just waited, not knowing what to do, or how long they'd have to wait.

"Is this too much?" Dorian asked, turning suddenly to his colleagues and holding a top against his chest.

Cassandra stared, then looked away without answering. Varric chuckled, and Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Too much what, Sparkler?" Varric teased.

"Is it supposed to cover any skin?" Solas asked.

"Oh you're useless," Dorian rolled his eyes. "What about this?" he asked, picking something that really did not do his moustache justice.

"Yeah, great," they all mumbled without looking.

Dorian shook his head disapprovingly, resisting the urge to throw the cloth back on the stall. It might not go well with... well, him, but it still was good quality, it wasn't fair to the material. Or the kind merchant, who had a lovely smile. Dorian grinned, seeing a challenge for himself, but he noticed Solas standing next to him just as he leaned over the stall to engage another type of conversation with the seller.

"Why don't you get something made by the Inquisition?" he asked, studying his current armour.

Dorian gasped dramatically, looking falsely offended. "Have you seen the design? They know how to make an armour, but they don't know anything about style."

"I think they're okay," Solas shrugged, leaning against the stall.

Dorian snorted, pointing at his outfit. "Oh and you would know something about style?"

"At least my nipple isn't showing when I'm fighting."

"Someone's been looking," Dorian grinned, stepping closer to Solas.

"Well, I _have_ to, don't I? I have to cast fewer barriers on the melee than on you!"

"Oh are you protecting me? How sweet!"

Dorian was clearly having fun, and although Solas wouldn't admit it in a thousand years, he was enjoying it too.

"I'm hungry," Cassandra sighed as she watched the two mages fight, again.

"Is that a moment of weakness, Seeker?" Varric said instantly, smiling.

She rolled her eyes. "We've been here for hours and, Maker, it smells good."

"We could eat Orlesian fries, they're the best," Varric shrugged, actually hungry himself.

Dorian, who was now arguing with Solas about how Tevinter was better than... anything Elvish, really, only for Solas to answer that half the things he was listing were originally Elvish, overheard his friends and immediately jumped in the conversation. "I'm sorry, Tevinter's are the best. They originate from there."

"No they don't," Varric snorted. "It's Orlesian, and they're _good_."

"The Tevinters are better at making them."

"Oh let's just eat!" Cassandra grunted, standing.

* * *

"So, are they the best or what?" Varric asked proudly once they were seated and halfway through their lunch.

Cassandra made an approving noise, her mouth full, clearly enjoying the meal. Solas gave a nod, also still busy eating, while Dorian ate slowly. "Meh," he shrugged, but didn't stop eating.

"Oh just admit that I'm right, Sparkler," Varric rolled his eyes, stuffing a handful of heavenly Orlesian fries in his mouth.

"They're okay."

"If it weren't blasphemy, I'd say the Maker himself must have made those," Cassandra said, supporting Varric's point.

"I'm not sure anyone considers this as blasphemy," Solas pointed out, wiping his hands.

"Sparkler." Varric snapped his fingers in front of Dorian's face to get his attention when he didn't answer. "You romanticized those Tevinter fries of yours. I'm telling you, Orlesian's are the best you can find."

"Hey guys," the Inquisitor interrupted them, leaning on the table. "I was looking for you."

"Can we just go?" Dorian had spoken, and they all got up, leaving, but Varric grinned when he saw the mage staying behind and quickly shoving a handful of Orlesian in his mouth when he thought that nobody was looking. He caught up with them, discreetly chewing and obviously very pleased with the dish.


End file.
